


Actor's Leap

by TMar



Category: Quantum Leap, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Crack Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 10:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMar/pseuds/TMar
Summary: Sam Beckett leaps into Patrick Stewart to save both Marina Sirtis and the show.





	Actor's Leap

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry about this. It's utter crack I wrote for a friend. Please don't hurt me.

When Sam became aware of the new place and body he was in, he was usually very  
surprised, for he was often doing things that he either didn't know how to do,  
or things that he had to learn on the spot. This was one of those times. He  
was standing under some very hot lights, in front of a huge camera, and was  
wearing some sort of red outfit that looked vaguely military. Oh, no, I'm an  
actor again! he thought.

Indeed, he was. Luckily they were still setting up the shot so he didn't  
have to be worried about not knowing his lines. Frantically, Sam looked around  
for a script, then stopped. He didn't know who he was, so how would he find  
his script?

That tiny problem was solved when a man wearing some weird contraption  
on his head walked by and said, "Look alive, Patrick."

Okay, good. I'm Patrick... somebody. He stepped out from under the lights  
to find his script. Lucky for him it was lying on a table next to a leather  
jacket, and it was clearly labelled "#1 - Patrick Stewart". Noticing that this  
was an episode ("First Contact") of a TV series, he wondered which scene they  
were about to film. He only hoped he could rely on his memory to get him  
through this.

A stage hand was walking past, so he grabbed her by the arm and said,  
"Excuse me, which scene are we doing?"

She looked at him as if he were some weird bug, then took his script,  
opened it, and pointed the scene out. "You know, Patrick," she quipped,  
"you've gotta stop standing under those lights without a hat on."

"Uh... yeah..." mumbled Sam, reading the relevant scene to himself.  
Luckily it was a pretty short scene, which entailed him walking around the  
back of the bridge (the direction said "walks to science station") and saying  
a few lines there. Luckily he'd seen the character list at the beginning (he  
was Picard, numbered #1 in character order), else, he reflected, he wouldn't  
have known who he was supposed to play in this film or whatever it was.  
Frantically, Sam read his lines over and over, wishing Al were here to help.

"All right," came a voice, "places, everyone!"

Sam walked back to where he'd been standing and assumed the same stance  
as before. Another man, wearing gold make-up, ran up and stood facing him,  
whispering, "Let's see if we can break everyone up."

Sam only nodded, since he didn't know what that meant in the first place.

"Action!" said the director, and Sam walked with two actors to the  
science station, said his lines, and waited for "Data" to reply, all the while  
thinking that the female guest star in this scene looked awfully familiar.

"Data" (whose real name was Brent, Sam had noticed) didn't answer with  
the correct line, which was only two words, "Chancellor. Minister." Instead  
he broke into the song 'Shall We Dance?' from The King and I and whirled the  
female guest star around the bridge.

"Uh..." Sam realised they were fooling, but he thought he'd try to  
salvage the scene. "Mister Data, are you all right?"

Brent let go of the actress, put on his straight face and replied, "Yes,  
Sir. Absolutely, Sir."

"Do you know why you're doing this?"

"Well, no, but if you hum a few bars I'll fake it."

And then everyone DID break up. Brent turned to the assembled cast and  
crew. "Toldya I'd do it before this afternoon."

"Do what?" Sam asked, confused.

"Throw you off stride, Patrick!" smiled Brent evilly, and everyone  
laughed. Sam only smiled, wondering if the whole of Hollywood was like this.  
He just hoped he wouldn't have to go to dinner with any of his fans. His last  
experience with a fan had put him off them for life.

Then the director said, "Places... and - action!"

But this time the excitement caused Sam to forget his lines. "Mister  
Data, this is... uh... what was it again?"

Brent told him the lines, and Sam ran the other lines in his head, just  
to make sure. They got through the scene without any trouble, and set up  
another one in a different area of the soundstage. Sam went to get the  
shooting schedule so he could learn his lines for whatever scene he'd be in  
next. He wasn't used to TV acting - his brush with a soap opera, er, daytime  
drama, had been fleeting - but he did know that scripts were not shot in the  
correct sequence. He found the scene which would follow, then opened his  
script and began going over his lines.

He was almost done when Al arrived. "Wow, Sam! A film set! You're an  
actor again!"

"Yeah, Al, so please tell me what to do so I can get outta here."

"You wanna get outta here?" Al looked surprised. "Why?"

"I don't think I'm cut out for this, Al! I have to keep learning all  
these lines, and these people keep making jokes, and you know what fans can  
do, and who knows what kind of fans this guy Patrick attracts, and I have no  
idea where I live or anything!"

"Calm down, Sam. Calm down," Al soothed. "It's not like you haven't done  
this before," he pointed out.

"That was different!"

"Yeah, okay." Al looked at the handlink and ran down the bio of Patrick  
Stewart, who, it surprised Sam to learn, was a respected BRITISH actor.

"So what am I doing here?"

"Ziggy isn't sure. She says the chances are about equal for the two  
theories we've come up with so far."

"Which are?"

"Well, this series -"

"Star Trek: The Next Generation," Sam supplied, having seen the name on  
the script.

"Yeah, Star Trek. Well, it was cancelled in its sixth year because a  
large group of people - fans, probably - put pressure on advertisers, on TV  
stations, you know, that kind of thing - to stop the show."

"Why?"

Al consulted the handlink. "In the fifth season - that's next year -  
there were an inordinate amount of appearances by a woman named..." He smacked  
the handlink and went on. "... Jennifer Hetrick. For some reason, Patrick  
Stewart - " He looked Sam up and down, shaking his head. "... was the one who  
kept getting her on the show. And it seems the fans hated it, and killed the  
show. It won so many Emmys, too," Al sighed.

"So what's the other theory?"

Just then, Brent walked past. "What theory?"

"Huh? Oh, ah... sorry, I misread this line." And Sam perused the shooting  
schedule nonchalantly. "Oh." Brent turned away, then looked back, an evil grin  
on his face. "We did break you up great, didn't we?"

"Yeah," said Sam, smiling with a 'you-got-me' expression, wondering what  
exactly went on on this set all day. Brent merely winked evilly and headed in  
another direction, and Sam turned an expectant gaze on Al, who said," Oh, the  
other theory... uh... you could be here to save the life of an actress...  
lemme see... Marina..." He smacked the handlink again. "Marina Sirtis.  
According to Ziggy, she was killed sometime during the next two weeks. We  
haven't found out how yet."

"Well, that's helpful." Sam's tone indicated that he didn't find it  
helpful at all.

"Look, don't panic, Sam. I'll go back and see what else I can get out of  
Ziggy. You hold the fort." He opened the door of the Imaging Chamber. Just  
then, a redheaded woman in a blue jacket came around the side of the set,  
smiled at Sam, opened her script, and began studying her lines. Al's head  
poked back into the doorway. "Oh, wooo-oowww..."

"Al..." warned Sam. Luckily the redhead didn't hear him. 

Al dragged his attention back to his friend. "Huh? Oh, yeah, okay. Don't  
blow any lines," he added as a parting shot, and the door slid shut.

***

Eventually, Sam managed to get everyone's names worked out. The man called  
Riker in the script was really named Jonathan Frakes. The redheaded woman was  
called Cheryl. The man who'd greeted him earlier - who wore the weird  
headpiece - was named Michael, the man in the weird sunglasses was LeVar, and  
he knew Brent of course. The guest stars were still a little fuzzy, though he  
had found out the name of the woman who looked so familiar - Carolyn. The  
woman he wanted to meet - to gauge whether he was there to save her - wasn't  
on the set that day.

At the end of a day of shooting, Sam was beginning to wonder what he'd  
do for the night, as he couldn't find an address anywhere in Patrick's things.  
But a brunette showed up just as shooting wrapped, and said, "Here I am, right  
on time!"

"Uh... that's nice."

"Nice? Next time, I think I'll be late. It'd throw out your entire  
schedule."

"No, it wouldn't," answered Sam, and then he realised she was kidding.

"Hi, Jennifer," said Michael, and Sam realised that this woman was most  
likely responsible for the series folding. He wondered what could possibly be  
so terribly wrong with her that the fans would reject anything she was in.  
Still, he couldn't do much more about it just then, so he went and had dinner  
with the woman, and let her drive him to Patrick's house.

***

He was looking for something to give her to drink when Al appeared again. "Hi,  
Sam."

"Al!"

"How's it goin'?"

"Okay, I guess. I got Jennifer to bring me home, now I'm trying to find  
something for us to drink. She doesn't live here, does she?"

"Ah... no. But you two..." Al physically abused the handlink. "Uh...  
Ziggy says there's a 76.9% probability that you two were going bingo-bango-  
bongo off the set."

Oh, great! thought Sam. "I still don't get it. What did she do that was  
so terrible?"

"To who?" asked Al, who never was concerned about correct grammar anyway.

"To the fans, you know, to make them kill the show."

"Oh! Well, we know that." Al consulted the handlink again. "Apparently  
you met her - " He indicated in the direction of the sitting room - "on this  
show, your your torrid affair caused the breakup of your marriage."

"And the fans didn't like this?"

"There's more, Sam. The character that she plays..."

"Vash," supplied Sam. The woman had said something about that character  
at dinner.

"Yeah, Vash. She's a rival for the affections of the captain - that's you  
\- on the show. They hate her with a passion. As a matter of fact, a year ago,  
someone sent her a barbecue fork in the mail."

"What's that got to do with it?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, Sam. It was in the police files... as a possible threat."

To Sam this was highly unlikely, and he said as much, but Al just  
shrugged. "Hey, Sam, do you know what the word 'vache' means in French?" He  
smiled in a very self-satisfied way. Sam hated that, especially when Al knew  
things he didn't. It was one of the disadvantages of having a brain that got  
swiss-cheesed during one's leaps. 

But this time, Sam did know the answer, so he walked right up to Al until  
their noses almost touched (well, sort of) and said, "Yes. As a matter of  
fact, I do. It means 'cow'." And then he looked askance at Al. "Oh, come on,  
that's got to be coincidence."

"One thing I learned in 'Nam and space is that there ARE no  
coincidences."

Sam just shook his head, then changed the subject. "And the actress I'm  
supposed to save?"

"MAYBE you're supposed to save her." Al shook his head. "No details yet.  
All we know from the report is that she died after sustaining a blow to the  
head."

"That's it."

"Yeah."

"Oh, boy."

"Yeah."

"Al, what am I supposed to do to save the show?"

"Get them to nix any appearances by Princess Charming in there." And,  
opening the door to the Imaging Chamber, Al made his usual exit.

***

Sam finished making the drinks (lime and soda; if Patrick Stewart had any  
alcohol he couldn't find it) and took them out to the sitting room. "So," said  
Jennifer by means of conversation, "how do you feel about the convention?"

"What convention?"

She looked sideways at him. "You've been acting weird all night. Are you  
feeling all right?"

"I'm a bit tired." Trying to perk up, Sam went on, "And, yeah, I'm  
looking forward to it." He made a mental note to ask Al where he was supposed  
to go for this convention. And what sort of convention was it, anyway?

"Good," Jennifer was saying. "I just wish we could spend more time  
together."

"Well... you know..." said Sam, not wanting to make any commitments on  
behalf of this man.

"So..." she said, running her hands along his collarbone, "am I getting  
my just deserts now?" She leaned forward and Sam kissed her, not because he  
particularly wanted to, but because it seemed to be what she expected. She  
definitely expected that, and a lot more, but Sam's moral code (which he had  
broken... but not that often, and once, not even on purpose!) suddenly told  
him to halt. He had made it kind of a policy not to sleep with any woman he  
didn't love... in that, Al's advice had been sound. There was no way, of  
course, that Sam would realise there was a deeper reason in his subconscious,  
within the part of him that DID remember... that reason had long, dark, curly  
hair and would wait for him forever.

"What's wrong now?" Jennifer asked, looking peeved.

"I'm just kinda tired. Do you mind?"

"I guess not." She got up, pulling him with her. "I'm visiting friends  
tomorrow, then there's your con. I guess I'll see you next week."

"Okay," said Sam, and when she looked strangely at him this time, he  
realised that Patrick Stewart probably did not talk like that.

***

Sam went to bed and got quite a good night's sleep, considering. The next day  
he found himself on a podium in front of almost a thousand people, being asked  
all kinds of questions he didn't know the answers to. And, by the looks he was  
getting from the women in the audience, they were all crazy about this Patrick  
person. 

"Mister Stewart," asked one, a blonde girl near the front, "why don't you  
lead Away Teams more often?"

"That's a question for the writers," said Sam.

A small child on one side was next. "Do you like the Enterprise?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"How did you feel about your first screen kiss?" asked someone else.

"Okay, I guess..." Sam had no idea who Patrick had kissed, or what it had  
been in, so the question meant nothing to him.

"Will you and Doctor Crusher ever get together?"

"Ask the writers."

"When are you doing A Christmas Carol again?"

"I'd need my diary... not for a while."

It went on like that. Sam tried to answer as best he could, and when he  
couldn't, gave evasive responses or made jokes out of the questions. He'd  
managed to get good at that when he'd leaped into Tonic that time. At least  
this time he didn't have to wear ridiculous makeup. In fact, a lot of things  
about this leap reminded him of that time when he'd leapt into the rock  
singer. The same adulation (it was, if that was possible, even WORSE than when  
he'd leaped into Tonic... or into "Rod the Bod", for that matter), the same  
hounding by reporters, the same glazed look that people would get whenever he  
entered a room.

He had to sit down and sign autographs for an hour... and by the time  
that was over he thought he'd never be able to hold a pen again. At least no  
groupies had undressed in front of him this time. One woman had asked him to  
sign her garter belt, but she hadn't been wearing it at the time, so he'd  
agreed.

Finally, after five hours, the convention came to an end and Sam dragged  
himself back to Patrick's house. He had a fax waiting for him from someone  
named Rick Berman, saying that favours only went so far, even for the star of  
the show, but he'd gotten the script rewritten with Vash, and would Patrick  
please call him about it.

Sam called up. "Hi, it's Patrick."

"Patrick, it'll work with Vash, but I liked the original better."

"You know, Rick, I think you're right."

"Changed your mind?"

"Yeah."

There was a sighing noise on the phone. Finally, "Getting tired of her?"

"Who?"

"Jennifer, of course. We've gotten quite a lot of hate mail about Vash.  
The fans hate her."

"We can't do things for them," replied Sam, quite correctly.

"I know, but Vash weakens that script. So we'll chuck the rewrite and  
keep the original. No more Vash. Personally, I find the character trivial, not  
worth Picard's time."

"Okay."

"Patrick, this is my final word. Whether you're the star or not, Vash is  
history."

"Yeah, yeah, I understand. Dump Vash."

"You got it."

***

After he put down the phone, Sam had a feeling that he wouldn't leap, and he  
didn't. I must be here to save Marina Sirtis, then, he thought.

He was just getting ready for bed when Al popped into right behind him,  
giving him a fright when he turned around. "Aaah!"

"Sorry," responded his friend, not looking the least bit sorry in fact.

"Why don't you use the door?" Sam asked.

"Nah, I went to check out that gorgeous redhead I saw on the set on  
Friday."

"Al..."

"Ah, come on, Sam, this is an easy leap. Can't I even look? Just a little  
peek? Huh? Pretty please?"

Sam shook his head, smiling. "So, what have you got for me?"

"You accomplished part of what you're here for. You got rid of Vash...  
oh. And you'll be pleased to know that Patrick doesn't marry her."

"He gets back with his wife?" Sam was a sucker for happy endings, which  
was why he liked movies so much.

Al whacked the handlink. "No, he doesn't. He finds himself someone  
better in a couple of years."

"So...?"

"Oh. Right. You're here to stop Marina Sirtis from getting hit by a  
klieg." They looked at each other in confusion... for about two seconds, then  
Al hit the handlink. "Light. Klieg light. Oh, it's a type of light they use  
when filming. Apparently one fell on her."

"These things don't happen, Al. No one has ever gotten killed by a  
falling light."

"Well, no one had landed on the moon, either, until Neil and Buzz did.  
And let's not forget that you got hit by a falling light not too long ago."

"Dwayne must have done that, Al. To get rid of me."

Al shrugged. "Could have been coincidence."

Sam nodded, not really caring; that was past and he had an actress to  
save. "When did it happen?"

"Ziggy doesn't know. All I have is, they were filming in a place called  
Ten Forward on Monday. That's the day after tomorrow."

"I know, Al. Does Jennifer show up here tomorrow by any chance?"

"What?" Al was clearly thinking of something else. "Why?"

"So I can avoid her. Find out. Please?"

Al consulted the handlink. "Yeah, she's supposed to come over tomorrow  
at about eleven."

"Al. How come Ziggy knows when Jennifer is coming, but not when Marina  
gets hit by the light?"

Even Al didn't know that one. Some things were lost in the mists of time.  
"Dunno," he said. Then, changing the subject, "How are you going to avoid   
Jennifer?"

"I'll go to the beach or tour some studios or something."

"Sam Beckett, workaholic, lying on the beach?" Al sounded skeptical.

"Why not?" asked Sam.

"Indeed, why not? This could turn into a mini-vacation! And I bet,"  
enthused Al, "there'll be lots of women on the beach!" But what really pleased  
the admiral was the prospect of Sam getting some rest.

***

Sam tried to just lie on the beach and do some reading, but he kept getting  
interrupted. First, by autograph-hunters. He smiled, signed their bathing  
costumes, and went back to his reading. Second, a child with a beach ball kept  
managing to make it land on him. Then, he was propositioned by a girl in a  
VERY revealing bikini, which had Al drooling. Finally he could take it no more  
and went back to Patrick's house, where he found Jennifer waiting for him.

"Where the hell were you?" she demanded.

"I went to the beach."

"You went to the beach. You, went to the beach?"

Sam was beginning to get irritated that people thought he was incapable  
of relaxing. Jennifer reached out and grabbed the book he was holding. "The  
Star Trek: The Next Generation Writer's Guide?" she asked, incredulous.  
"You're reading the Writer's Guide?"

"What's wrong with that, for crying out loud?" Sam yelled, angry not with  
Jennifer but at the fact that he couldn't do anything without being bothered  
about it.

Jennifer shoved the book back at him. "I don't know what's wrong with  
you, Patrick, but don't come near me until you've decided what our  
relationship is, and if I'm going to be on the show."

Sam said nothing to that; Jennifer stamped off, and Al grinned  
approvingly. "Looks like you've put paid to that relationship," he said.

"I'm ruining this guy's life," said Sam.

"No, you're not. I told you, he finds someone much better in a couple  
of years."

"Thanks to me?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, boy."

***

Sam finally did meet Marina Sirtis on Monday. He followed the poor woman  
everywhere she went, until eventually she rounded on him and said, "Okay,  
what's up?"

"Up? Ah... nothing."

"You and Brent or Jonathan are up to something. Why else would you be  
following me around?"

So Sam decided it was better to be allowed to shadow her than to have her  
get cross with him. "Okay, I confess. It's a bet. Just let me shadow you for  
the day, and I'll explain later." He felt sorry for Patrick, knowing the man  
would have no explanation. Marina looked at him as if he was nut, then  
relented. "Okay. I'm going to check my contact lenses, if you want to watch."

"In your dressing room?"

"Of course in my dressing room. Wanna come?"

"Uh..." Sam remembered that she had been killed by a klieg light on the  
Ten Forward set. There were no klieg lights in the dressing rooms. "... No.  
Thanks."

"Patrick, you're acting like an American again."

"I am?"

Marina sighed, and walked off. Sam took that to mean 'yes'.

***

The first scene was in a place called the Ready Room. Sam arrived early, just  
in time to find a technician feeding a fish in a tank in a corner. "What're  
you doing?" he asked, though it was pretty obvious.

"Feeding Livingston. We've all grown attached to him. So have the fans."

"Uh... right," replied Sam, not knowing what the heck the guy was talking  
about.

The director and the other actors came in then, and they all took their  
places. The scene went quite smoothly, until Sam flubbed one of his lines -  
not on purpose or because he forgot it, but because he was hoping that Marina  
wasn't loitering in Ten Forward while he was here. "Uh... sorry."

"Okay, take it again from before George's line about being only a voice  
in a chorus."

The actor with whom Sam was doing the scene (Sam had figured out his name  
\- George) waited for him to get the line right, then said his lines. The scene  
wrapped, and Sam found himself thinking about what George had said. Some of  
that applied to him. He'd woken up one morning being a Nobel Prize winner and  
genius, and in one day he'd become something and someone totally different.  
But I think it was a good day. Yes, indeed.

***

"Right, Patrick, you're showing Marista around, then Troi chips her bit in,  
then you move to the table by this window here. Got it?"

Sam nodded, more to Al, who had just stepped through the Imaging Chamber  
door than to the director. But the director wasn't paying attention. "Okay.  
Silence, please, and... action!"

Sam said his lines, Marina said hers. He was required to move towards the  
table here, but didn't. "Cut! Patrick, what's the problem?"

"Nothing. Sorry, I'm feeling a bit off today."

"You're giving me grey hairs."

"Sorry."

"Okay, everyone, take..." The director didn't have a chance to say  
anything more, because one of the lighting technicians yelled, "Cliff!", Al  
yelled, "Sam!", the director turned around, Marina Sirtis looked up to find  
a light coming at her, and Sam took one huge dive and literally body-blocked  
her out of the way of the klieg light. The light came crashing down just where  
Marina had been standing, and then there was absolute silence.

Sam picked himself up off the floor, then helped Marina to her feet. "You  
okay?"

"Yeah. If you hadn't pushed me, that would have fallen right on me."

Sam held her for a minute while her breathing steadied. "See, I can be  
a hero in real life too," he said to lighten the atmosphere. Marina smiled and  
kissed his cheek. "My hero. Wait till the papers hear about this."

"Oh, no," said Cliff, coming over. "Not on my set."

"Why not?" asked Sam and the actress at the same time.

"This is a safe set."

"Well of course it is, but..."

"The last thing we need is twenty thousand letters from fans asking us  
not to drop klieg lights on Patrick or Jonathan."

They all laughed at that, until they heard someone clear their throat at  
the side of the set. "Hi, Rick," said Cliff. He was quite used to Rick Berman,  
having directed quite a few episodes of the show.

Rick Berman - now Sam had a face to go with the name - came up to him and  
said, "We agreed no more Vash, but Gene's had a change of plans. We can't use  
Beverly for that Q episode."

Sam didn't know what a Q episode was, or who Gene was, for that matter,  
so he only asked, "Why not?"

"Same old story. And it also conflicts with that parasite story we've got  
lined up."  
"So we have to use Vash after all?"

"Yeah. But Patrick - not again. Maybe in a season or two, but not next  
season. Okay?"

Sam only said, "Jennifer and I broke up."

"You'll still work with her?"

"Sure, if it's only one episode."

"Only one," promised Rick. "Oh, and by the way - nice heroics."

"Thank you," said Sam... and leaped.

***

Later, when Sam had a minute, Al enthusiastically updated him on the Star Trek  
situation. "You'll be pleased to know that the show went on happily. Marina  
Sirtis got married, that gorgeous redhead had a baby boy, and they even made  
another show using the same idea! Deep Space Nine, it's called. They used Vash  
in it, but just once, and you'll be pleased to know that Patrick didn't have  
anything to do with it."

"Ulp!" was all Sam could get out, but Al ignored him, carrying on.

"And - get this, Sam - they voted you, I mean Patrick, the Most Bodacious  
Man in America or something!"

"That's great, Al, but I'm in a crisis here."

Al peeped out of the door where Sam was standing. "Ah, I used to love  
this! And besides, you've done it before, no problem."

"Well, I was kinda getting used to the idea of never doing it again."

"There's nothing to it, Sam. And never say never." Al winked at him.

"Ready?" asked a woman, walking up behind Sam.

"No."

"Nonsense. Just remember everything you learnt, and you'll be fine."

"I don't think..." Sam began, when the woman pushed him out of the door.

Sam looked down... the ground was so very far away, but getting closer.  
Luckily his parachute had opened. "Ooohhh, boy!"

THE END


End file.
